


I See Signs Now (All the Time)

by green_piggy



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles X
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Gen, SOME people are happy, and also for all of the Murderess' AMs!, but no one is happy it's okay, spoilers for the entire game!, well that's a lie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 12:19:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6657472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_piggy/pseuds/green_piggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the age of thirteen, every human has two names appear on their wrists; one for their worst enemy, and one for their soulmate. Needless to say, it isn’t always that simple; especially not for anyone that Irina knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I See Signs Now (All the Time)

**Author's Note:**

> lmao the only romantic pairing in this is Irina/Murderess  
> this only focuses on the main eight (and murderess), because god knows I inflict enough suffering on all of them without any of the side characters getting involved (again, with the exception of murderess. what can I say, I love assholes who are sad and smol (see also: lao)).  
> you can shorten that to ASS lmao  
> what is the overarching message of this fic, piggles, I hear you ask. what message did you hope to convey with this weird-ass fic?  
> IDK man get back to me when you find something.

No one knew where the sensation had come from, but it had been around for longer than Irina had been alive. Once you hit thirteen years old, two names would appear on your wrists. One was meant to tell you your soulmate, and the other your worst enemy.

When Irina hit thirteen, she had the same name appear on both wrists. She was annoyed, to say the least, but she _definitely_ didn’t cry. Nope. Not at all. No reason to, after all.

…Damn hormones.

And it wasn’t even an unusual name! No, it was a stupidly common one – _Sharon._

How was she meant to find her ‘other half’ with as little help as _that_? Here’s a first name, go and have fun tracking them down! You only have about eight billion or so people to search through! She’d be old and bent over by the time she found this ‘Sharon’, probably. Or dead.

If she stayed alive long enough to grow old, well, she’d be highly surprised.

Ah, well. At least she didn’t have a guy’s name.

* * *

 

Gwin showed up to his thirteenth birthday party with tape wrung tight around his wrists.

Irina, understandably, was more than a little bit confused.

“Why are you covering ‘em up?” she asked, poking at his hand. Gwin was still a tiny person, all awkward limbs and wide eyes; he pulled away from her with cheeks burning bright.

“N-no reason!” he squeaked out. He tugged at a loose piece of tape, his eyes darting to everywhere but her face. “I, just, uh, felt like it?”

The noises of the party carried on around them; Leon’s squeal as someone dumped cake over his hair was high enough to scatter a glass. Irina glanced over to her brother, spotted his smile, and felt something warm rise in her heart.

She looked back to Gwin, to the small frown tugging down his eyes, his lips, _everywhere_ , and sighed. The warmth dissipated as soon as it had come.

“…Did you get someone you didn’t want?” she murmured. She rested a hand on Gwin’s shoulder; look at me, she wanted to say. We’re family, aren’t we?

His eyes flickered to her wrist before he glanced away. “Something like that,” he muttered, something unfamiliar and bitter in his voice. His fingers flexed and squeezed around his bicep.

Irina didn’t push the issue. She couldn’t, not with the sudden heaviness in her heart. She gave him a smile and went off to grab a cup of soda for both of them.

* * *

 

The colonel didn’t have any names.

Irina had asked her, and Elma had just given her this – _confused_ stare, like she had no idea what Irina was going on about. After quite a few seconds, she sighed and crossed her arms. “I haven’t got the time for romance,” she said. There was a beat of silence, then: “Or the interest.”

“Your soulmate isn’t always romantic.”

“Most of the time, they are.”

“Yeah, but.” The thought of the colonel never finding anyone – romantic _or_ platonic – made something in Irina’s heart ache. Even without the soulmate name, she still had Leon and Gwin and her army squad. Did Elma have anyone like that, anyone she could call family? “Not all of the time.”

Everyone needed someone.

“I have all of you,” Elma said softly, her eyes smiling. “What more do I need?”

“But, Colonel-“

“And, besides, the name on your wrist isn’t always the right one.” Elma was scowling now, a hand arched on her hip. “Humans shouldn’t have their entire lives dictated by a couple of names on their hands.”

She… had a valid point. Extremely valid. Irina nodded back with a small salute. “Of course, ma’am.”

There was a screeching noise from the sitting room, followed by smashing. Elma sighed and shook her head, but she was smiling.

“…And there goes the cat,” she murmured. “We better go and rescue her.”

“At once, ma’am.”

* * *

 

Doug always wore massive bracelets around his wrists, huge clunky things that took up at least half of his lower arm. Irina had asked him about them once, after a few too many drinks, and he had passed out from laughter. Or the alcohol.

…Probably the latter, now that Irina sat down and thought about it. He always had been a lightweight.

He wasn’t laughing now, though, glaring at Irina with ire that she had never seen in his eyes before. “It’s none of your _business_!” he snapped, covering his left wrist with his hand, as though Irina hadn’t already seen the one on his other wrist. It was an odd name, one that she didn’t recognise and couldn’t pronounce. It looked almost – alien, if aliens could write and speak English.

 _Somehow_ , she highly doubted that.

“I know it’s not,” she said, holding her hands up and catching the black on them. She sometimes forgot about her own name, about the little ‘Sharon’ woven around both of her wrists in a mocking flutter. It was amazing how much condensation could be poured into the handwriting of someone Irina had never met. “I was just… making conversation.”

Doug made a little huff noise. Irina carried on wrapping the bandage around the palm of his hand, ignoring his low hisses of pain as she did so. She tugged it tight and ripped off the extra material with her knife, bundling it in her pocket. And, because she was nosy- “But _do_ you know who-“

“No!” Doug snarled. He tugged on his gloves with vigour, despite the red splatter of blood on them that had made Irina take them off in the first place. She caught a flash of a symbol – Mandarin, maybe? – on his wrist before leather snapped over it. “It ain’t important,” he muttered, eyes boring at the ground.

Irina crossed her arms. “That’s not a tone to take with your superior.”

Doug rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” He stormed past her, a hand on the knife tied at his waist. “I need to go scoutin’. I’ll be back, _First Lieutenant_.”

“I didn’t give you permission-“

“The colonel did.”

“But your hand-“

“Is completely fine.” He wiggled the fingers in front of her face with a sneer.

Irina stared at him, tilting her chin back. Doug mirrored her expression, and tense seconds ticked by, until Irina sighed and put a hand on her hip.

“Stay safe.”

Doug gave a wave over his shoulder and stomped out of the tent.

* * *

 

When they had all transferred into their mim bodies, they had been given a choice over whenever or not to retain their names. You could have had them tattooed on, like what Irina had decided to go with. She’d had them for as long as she could remember; it’d be weird to see empty skin instead of that smug signature.

Most of the people Irina knew had gone for removing them, like Lao. So when Irina spotted an unfamiliar name on his wrist one evening, she was more than a little confused.

It was no secret that one of his previous names had been Elma’s, much to the amusement of their entire squad. She sure as hell was _not_ his soulmate.

The other name was something none of them brought up.

But, this _new_ name-

“What language is that?”

Lao shrugged, fingers rubbing over the wonky lines. They looked as though a kid had scribbled them onto his wrist while trying out a pen for the first time. He leaned back in the sofa and sighed. “Korean, or something?” he offered. “I don’t know. It sure as hell ain’t Mandarin.”

Irina didn’t glance up from cleaning her assault rifle. Some blatta blood had gotten trapped in the magazine component, and she was having an absolute field day scrubbing it out. She spat into her cloth and pressed harder, making high-pitched squeaks with each rub.

“How long have you had it for?”

She caught him shrugging from the corner of her eye. “Dunno. Three months?”

The scent of something delicious was wafting in from the kitchen. Lin had dragged herself and Cross into the kitchen and locked the rest of them out. Irina couldn’t work out why; maybe they wanted her and Lao to come up with battle plans or something?

She glanced over to him. Yeah, _right._ She knew that Lin and Cross were both better cooks than her – even Tatsu was surprisingly good – but she wasn’t _awful._

Tatsu was snoring away in front of the fire. For a talking potato, he sure did live an easy lifestyle.

She flicked out a piece of icky green blood just as the door creaked open. Lin came waddling in with a wide grin, each hand occupied with an overflowing plate of _heaven_. Irina’s stomach gave a painful growl – she hadn’t even known that she was hungry.

“That looks _amazing_ , Lin,” Irina said, grinning as Lin set down the plate in front of her. It was curry, a mismatch of ingredients that should not have smelt anywhere near as good as it did. Irina set her rifle down on the floor and reached for the cutlery on top.

“No problem!” she chirped, making her way over to Lao. “And here you go!” He reached up to grab the plate off her with a soft smile-

Lin suddenly stumbled back with a gasp, eyes widening. The plate clattered into Lao’s hands.

“Y-your _wrist_ -“ she wheezed out.

Lao raised his eyebrows. He slowly set the plate onto the table and gave a wry smile, not looking anywhere in particular. “…I know, I know, it’s weird. It just – popped up one day.”

Lin gave a weak laugh, her eyes darting around. “That’s not… no, no, never mind.” She shook her head firmly; her fingers clenched around her left wrist, tight enough to make her gloves squeak. “S-sorry! I’ll just, uh, go?” She pointed to the kitchen door with a wavering smile as she stepped back. “Tatsu must be burning something again!”

Irina paused with a fork in her mouth, and leaned forward on her cheek. She glanced down to the Nopon still snoozing near her feet.

She looked back up. Lin gave a nervous giggle.

“You’ve got nothin’ to apologise for,” Lao murmured.

“T-thanks!” she stuttered out. In less than a second, Lin was gone.

The kitchen door banged shut.

Silence ticked by. Irina glanced to the door, then to Tatsu, and sighed. She dug her fork into the curry and fished out some meat as Lao shrugged on his gloves.

He froze.

Irina raised her eyebrows and digested her first mouthful of bliss. “Is it _that_ weird for a name to appear on a mim?”

Lao didn’t answer her, though. He was staring at the kitchen door, eyes wide. His hand trembled over his wrist.

“Lao?”

“I – I need to go,” he muttered, and had the front door slammed behind him before Irina could blink.

* * *

 

“Hello, lovely tyrant!”

“Why is there marker on his wrist?” Gwin whispered in Irina’s ear. She shrugged, and watched with eyes wide as L continued to chatter on to – well, to a tyrant.

Honestly? She was too tired and amazed to really care. Cross was _howling_ with laughter, tears in their eyes as they stumbled away from their group. They leaned against the cliff face, their entire body shaking.

“Does L have a soulmate?” Irina wondered. She crossed her arms.

Gwin rubbed the back of his neck. “Ehh, probably not? I don’t know.” He frowned. “I mean, dogs didn’t have soulmate names.”

Irina raised her eyebrows and gazed at him from the corner of her eyes. _Really_ , she wanted to say, but she let that word carry through with her scowl.

Gwin gave a weak chuckle, his cheeks glowing red. “W-we can, uh, ask him when he stops flirting with the tyrant.”

“Goodness, what amazing scales you have!”

“I still really want to know why he has marker on his wrist,” Gwin murmured. He crossed his arms and made a little pout. His cheeks puffed out wide. “Do ya think he was that desperate for a soulmate?”

“Maybe.” Irina raised her eyebrows when L began to stroke the indigen’s leg. She scuffled her boot against the alien sand of Sylvalum’s ground. A xe-dom flew through the air behind them with a forbidding hum; she tensed, and only found herself relaxing once it had gone down towards Lake Ciel. “I… really don’t know.”

“As long as he doesn’t go any further with that thing, we’re good.”

Seconds later, L crouched down; Gwin squeaked and squawked and made a hundred other noises identical to a saltat’s own. He leaped behind Irina and gripped her shoulders.

“Oh my _God_ he’s gonna-“

“What an amazing hoof you have!”

…Was Irina hearing things, or was the tyrant making a little content purring noise?

Alexei bent its head down and gave L’s cheek a gentle nuzzle.

The flash of a comm device camera went off with a beep. Irina glanced over to Cross. They flashed her a thumbs-up and snapped another photo.

“How are we gonna report _this_ to the secretary?” Gwin asked, his eyebrows raised in a mixture of disbelief and growing disgust. “Are we gonna go to him and say: ‘oh, sorry, we didn’t kill the tyrant, L was too busy flirting with it’?”

Irina snorted. “Looks like it.”

“We see now why you are called Alexei the Jade,” L murmured, stretching his hand so that it was resting against the monoceros’s horn. It gave a delighted neigh and bent its head down even lower. “Why, your horn is enough to make us green with ivy!”

“That is _not_ how the saying goes,” Gwin rasped out.

“You are _gorgeous_. Who’s a good horse?”

The monoceros let out a mighty cry.

“Yes, _you_ are!”

“Y’know.” Gwin crossed his arms, standing next to Irina again. “I thought that L was really serious and scary when I first saw him.”

There was a pause, as though he was waiting for Irina to digest his words.

“And look at him.” Gwin flapped out a hand. “Just – _look_ at him.”

L giggled and rested his head against the side of Alexei’s own.

Irina leant against the small crystal formation behind them. “How does he know what a horse is?”

Alexei gave L a soft shove. It was probably meant to be affectionate, but it knocked him to the ground in a pile of laughter.

“Does he have _tickles_?” Gwin asked.

“Wow, Gwin.” Irina grinned and gave his side a light elbow. “An indigen’s better at flirting than you are.”

“That is _not_ flirting!” he whined with a flap of his arms.

Alexei gave a loud cry. Its wings began to unfurrow from its back, revealing long strands of turquoise glowing a colour that Irina had never seen on Earth.

“May we touch?”

It neighed. L gently tapped one of the wings and let out a gasp. “Oh, so soft! Even softer than Tatsu!”

“Tatsu’s soft?”

Irina shrugged. “Apparently.” She glanced up to the setting sun and to the crimson aura that was sweeping in from afar. “…I don’t think we’re leaving for a while.”

“Yeah, no kiddin’.”

Alexei gave a soft grumble and burrowed itself head first into the sand, horn and all. L cooed in delight.

“Should we, uh, go and beat up some indigens?”

“Yeah,” Irina muttered, her eyes flickering to a viridian monoceros trotting along a few metres away. “That sounds like a plan.”

* * *

 

Irina had agreed to meet up with Cross for a ‘coffee’, although with the way their eyes were lighting up with _glee_ , pure and evil, made her seriously consider cancelling the thing right there and then.

When they had that expression, nothing went well.

“You should have seen her,” Cross said. They took a hefty bite out of their cookie before continuing, spraying crumbs over Irina. “This dude came up to her, and then Sharon just-“

Irina’s heart stopped. Apprehension smacked her harder than a lost caro.

“-Lemme tell ya, she was ready to pull out ‘em swords-“

“Sharon?” she croaked out.

Cross stopped. They crossed their arms, leaned back on their chair, and banged a foot onto the table. An employee gave them a dirty look from inside the café. “Oh, did she not tell you?” they said lightly, a devious grin stretching their cheeks. They snorted. “Did ya seriously think that the Murderess was actually called _Murderess_?”

“W-well, _no_!” Irina snapped. She glanced at her wrists – no way was this happening, no way no way no _way_. She was fast-pedalling through the Five Stages of Grief and she _knew_ it. “But-“

“Haven’t you guys known each other since childhood?”

“Y-yeah, _but_ -“

“And you don’t know her _real_ name?”

“I – it’s not like-“

Cross’s smirk widened. “Her real name’s Sharon.”

Their eyebrows _wiggled_.

Irina glanced down to the name marking both of her wrists.

“Oh my _God_ ,” she muttered. Her soulmate and worst enemy was none other than the Murderess.

The _Murderess_.

“Fan-cy _that_ ,” Cross drawled.

“You knew!” Irina yelled. She stood up and slammed her hands on the table. Cross didn’t even flinch; they carried on grinning at her, flicking a piece of hair out of their eyes. “You’ve known for – for _how_ long!?”

“Not _that_ long.” They put their hands behind their head and leaned back. “It could be a different Sharon-“

“How many Sharons do you know!?” Irina squeaked.

“Just the one.”

“How are you so calm!?”

Cross just kept on smiling. “Couldn’t it be a Sharon from Earth?”

“A person’s name disappears when they die,” she snarled. Of course Cross wouldn’t know that.

Cross gave a low whistle. “Gotcha.”

They took a long gulp of their tea, then grinned around the rim of the cup.

“Oh man, oh, _man_ ,” They muttered, kicking both of their feet onto the table. “I have _got_ to set you two up on a date.”

“I’d rather skin myself-“

Cross yanked out their comm device. “I’ll arrange it for tomorrow.”

“God damn it, I said _no_ -“

“Ten in the morning okay?”

Irina buried her forehead in her hand, and somehow – _somehow,_ she couldn’t stop her quiet laughter. “All right,” she said, grinning. “Whatever you want, Cross. No one can say no to you.”

“Damn straight!” They paused, then smacked their hand against the table with a small rattle. “Damn gay!”

Irina snorted. Her eyes caught on Cross’s arms, and the sight of them never failed to take her breath away. Cross didn’t have just the one name, or two, or even three.

No. They had hundreds upon hundreds of names, thousands of them criss-crossing and intersecting the entire length of their arms. Irina had found her name in the crook of their left elbow once, and the names of many others that she recognised as well scattered all over; Elma’s just below their left shoulder; Lin’s on their right pinkie finger; Gwin’s on the little bone popping out of their right wrist. Both of their arms were tinged a gorgeous rainbow colour, different names and languages and words all joining together in the one place.

She remembered when Elma had asked them about it. They had laughed and said that they loved everyone. Really, it was bound to happen!

“You really are amazing,” Irina murmured, smiling at Cross’s confused head tilt.

* * *

 

Irina had popped into the colonel’s barracks to mention that, hey, she found her soulmate, and she was an utter asshole! Break out the cake!

Only Lin was in, though. She was sitting on the sofa, absently poking at something in her lap. A machine, maybe, or perhaps a Skell part. It wasn’t anything that Irina recognised.

She didn’t look up until Irina sat on the sofa opposite her and crossed her arms. She started with a little gasp, and gave Irina a wan smile, one tinged with exhaustion.

It had been a month since they recovered the Lifehold. Things… hadn’t gotten any easier, not for any of them.

“Everything all right?” Irina asked, because she didn’t know what else to say.

“Of course!” Lin chirped. Humming, she held up the part in her hands. “I just – I can’t get this stupid thing to work.” She gave it a little knock. “I’ve been at it for _hours_.”

Irina’s eyes glanced to the clock on her comm device. It was nearly midnight. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

Lin’s eyes flickered to her lap. “Y-yeah…”

Irina’s concern deepened.

“I’m fine!” Lin said, in the slightly unhinged tone of voice that came from someone who was anything _but_ fine. “A-anyway, how come you’re here?”

“Well, it wasn’t for dinner.” She gave a little snort and smile, crossing her arms. “I, ah. I…” Why were the words suddenly caught in her throat?

Was it because she’d found something people spent their entire lives searching for? Maybe.

Lin leaned forward, elbows on her knees, looking grateful for the change in topic. “Mmm?”

“I found my soulmate.”

“That’s great!” Lin clapped her hands together with a wide grin. It was too wide, one that didn’t wrinkle the corners of her heavy eyes. “Someone I know?”

“Sure is.”

“Ohhhh, do tell!”

Irina cleared her throat. She opened her mouth, shut it, tried to think on how best to say it, and decided to just get it out:

“The Murderess.”

Silence.

“Wait, _whaaat_!?”

Irina chuckled. “My thoughts exactly.”

Lin was blinking at her with an owlish expression. Eventually, she slapped her cheeks with her hands. “Get yourself _together_ ,” she muttered under her breath. Irina raised her eyebrows as Lin sat up straight and beamed. “…So. Do you happen to know who your enemy is?”

“They’re one and the same.”

“No _way_.” Lin leaned back, her grin spreading across fully for the first time that night. “No way, no way. Oh my _God_ , this is incredible.”

“Lin-“

“I can’t believe this!” She paused, then pouted as she made a thoughtful noise. “…Actually, I totally can.”

“ _Lin_ ,” Irina said, but she was struggling not to smile.

She stroked her chin. “You two _do_ spend a lot of time together for people who apparently hate each other…”

“Lin.”

She giggled. She placed the component on the table with a solid thump and leaned back with a little yawn.

Time passed in a peaceful blur. Irina could hear the yelling of drunks from outside the barracks, and the mechanical hissing of Skells as they carried on in the darkness.

Just as she was about to say something:

“…Irina?” came the soft murmur.

She glanced up. “What is it?”

Lin linked her hands together. She didn’t look up from them as she spoke. “…Can I tell you something?”

“Of course. I’m your aunt, right?” Irina sat herself next to Lin and gave her shoulder a brief squeeze.

Lin smiled at that. “Yeah,” she muttered. Her hands clenched tight. She wasn’t wearing gloves, for once, but from her angle Irina couldn’t see anything on her wrists. “I,” she said, then nodded to herself and looked up at Irina. She let out a shaky breath. “I’ve known who my soulmate is for a long time.” She sighed. “Was, I guess.”

“You do?” Then why hadn’t she done anything?

Lin held out her left wrist wordlessly. There, in the bend of it, was a messy symbol that Irina recognised almost immediately. She had seen it only once, years ago, but seeing someone else’s soulmate wasn’t something you just – forgot.

Doug had had that exact same symbol.

“Who..?”

“Lao,” she murmured, tears in her voice. “It’s Lao’s name.”

And everything made sense.

Irina gasped as Lin continued to speak.

“I – I thought – I thought a person’s name vanished after they die.”

“They do,” Irina whispered, unable to tear her eyes off it. Lin pulled her wrist away and cradled in her hand – there was no name on her other wrist.

“But then why?” Lin said, her voice rising. She slammed fists against the sofa. “Why is his name still there? He’s – he’s dead!”

“Well, if his name’s there, he can’t be.”

“But he _is_!” Lin stood up, her entire body shaking. “He has to be, he _has_ to be… he can’t…”

Before she could stop herself, Irina stood up and caught Lin in a tight hug. She ran her hands over the girl’s hair, and felt her chest pang with something horrible as Lin caught her jacket and _sobbed._ “It’s okay,” she murmured, knowing that it was anything but. She stroked Lin’s dry hair. “If that idiot’s still alive, we’ll find him.”

“H-he had my name,” Lin choked out. She let out another sniffle and clenched the collar of Irina’s jacket. “I saw it – that night, at the – the camp.”

Irina said nothing.

“And I never said anything! H-he knew, and I knew, but we never-“ She broke off, suddenly, letting out a raspy breath. “…I never said anything.” Her arms clung around Irina’s midriff and squeezed, as though Irina was the only thing keeping her upright.

“It’s okay.”

“I miss him so much.”

“We all do.”

It was a long time before either of them moved.

Eventually, Lin pulled back, still shaking, but she was smiling a little as well. She ran her wrist over her eyes. “W-when we find him, I’m gonna punch him. So hard.”

Irina snorted. She ruffled Lin’s head. “Get in line, kid. There’s already a few of us lined up and waitin’.”

Lin giggled. “And then an even bigger hug after?”

“Of course.” Her eyes fell on Lin’s comm device, buried deep in one of the sofa’s creases. Her stomach grumbled. “Hey. You wanna order takeout and watch a movie?”

She grinned. “You bet!”

* * *

 

Irina arrived ten minutes early and wasn’t surprised to see that the Murderess – no, _Sharon_ – was already there, looking as smug as a simius.

No, Irina thought, as she watched her smirk stretch, smugger. _Way_ more smug.

She was her soulmate, Irina had to remind herself. She gave her skin a little pinch, just to make sure that this was really happening.

Fourteen years – _fourteen_ years, and she’d finally found the owner of the name on her wrist. Both of them.

She plopped herself in the chair opposite of Sharon. It was a glorious day in New LA, not a single speck of cloud drifting in the piercing sky. The shuffles and chatter of all of their different races, from human to Prone, drifted in the air. Nearby, a Nopon was balancing on a table with her little toe while a huddle of Prone cheered her on. Behind Irina, an Orphean was nibbling away at the leaf of a nearby potted plant instead of her cake, much to her friend’s horror.

Silence ticked by. Sharon crossed her arms and tilted her head back, eyes gleaming in the morning sunlight.

Then:

“How long have you known?” Irina hissed. “How. _Long_?”

Sharon shrugged, no doubt attempting to appear casual, but there was a grin in her eyes. “Oh, ever since I was thirteen.”

“You-“

“I mean, I wasn’t sure if you were _the_ Irina.”

Irina growled, narrowing her eyebrows. “How many Irinas do you know?”

“Just the one.”

She let out a growl, sorely tempted to just get up and leave.

“Don’t go,” Sharon said with a smirk. She pushed across a steaming cup of coffee – whipped cream and a couple of marshmallows bopping in the top, just like how Irina liked it. “Why, I went and spent money on you. You should be _honoured_.”

“Yeah, because you’re so damn poor.”

Sharon chortled.

Irina eyed her, then swiped the cup and took a long delightful drink, never taking her eyes off Sharon.

“So,” Sharon murmured, a finger rimming the top of her empty mug, “when should we kiss?”

Irina spat out her drink.

Sharon’s lip curled. “Definitely not right now,” she sneered.

Flapping her hand about for a handkerchief, Irina ended up using the sleeve of her jacket to mop up the mess she had left on the stainless table. “Y-you-“

“Oh, _c’mon_ , Irina,” she purred, leaning forward in her chair. For whatever reason, Sharon wasn’t wearing her usual gear, but instead a purple tank top that… didn’t leave much to the imagination. Irina forced her gaze skyward. “Aren’t we _soul_ mates?”

“Screw you,” Irina snapped. She chugged down another mouthful, feeling the liquid burn the back of her throat.

“Will be one day, hopefully.”

Irina nearly choked.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Sharon droned as Irina spluttered and wheezed and tried not to go a bright red. “Other topics.”

Once she had recovered, Irina raised her eyebrows. She let out a little high-pitched rattling noise as she tried to hold in her coughs.

“Like cats.” Sharon grinned. “I’ve always wanted cats. Two of ‘em.”

“…What?”

“Can’t a little rich girl like me have a couple of little rich kitties?”

“I never said you couldn’t.” Irina sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I just…”

Sharon actually kept her mouth shut, which was pretty surprising.

“…Shouldn’t we get to know each other better?” Irina eventually asked. She leaned back on the hind legs of her chair and watched as the Nopon near her finally toppled off the table. Some of the Prone moaned; others hollered, credits swapping rapidly between their hands.

Irina glanced back to Sharon, who was watching her with rapt eyes.

Too many people Irina knew didn’t have their romantic soulmate. Hell, most people didn’t have their names on their soulmate’s wrist full stop. Elma, Doug, Lin, Lao… she never did find out who Gwin had, but she had a sinking feeling in her gut that she knew exactly who his ‘soulmate’ had been.

Why should she and Sharon be any different? It wasn’t as though romance was somehow more significant than platonic relationships. Hell, maybe she _wasn’t_ the right Sharon. Or maybe Sharon was meant to be with a different Irina.

Neither of them had any way of knowing.

And, yet, despite all of that…

“I’d like to give us a shot,” she muttered, surprising herself with the softness of her voice. She clenched her fingers around the cup’s handles. Sharon was gazing at her with open curiosity. “This – soulmate thing. But I don’t want it to – to _dictate_ us, you know?” Irina shook her head, Elma’s words from years ago ringing in her ears. “I don’t want the two of us to date just because some name on our wrist says that we should.”

Silence stretched thin.

Sharon yawned. “And here I was, concerned about how best to tell you that I have zero interest in sex.”

“You’re asexual?”

“Sure am.”

“All right,” Irina said slowly, “so why all of those sexual jokes earlier?”

“Oh?” Sharon sniffled. “Those? I just say them to annoy people.”

Irina grinned and couldn’t help her chuckle. “I can’t believe you.” She took a final slip and finished her drink. It gave a soft chime as she set it on the table. “I really can’t.”

“I can’t believe myself either,” Sharon murmured. She was looking at a place right behind Irina; she turned her neck, but couldn’t see anything noticeable or important. A sudden snort from behind drew Irina’s attention back.

“Huh?”

“I was looking at _you_ , idiot,” she said, with a smile that wasn’t entirely smug. There was something kinder in there, something that softened her eyes and made her look – different. But not in a bad way.

Not at all.

“Weird to think that we’re soulmates.”

“Yeah,” Irina snorted, “no kidding.”

There was yelling from behind Sharon. Both of them turned, as a poor Prone was being yelled at by the smallest Ma-non Irina had ever seen.

Sharon turned back, a grin lighting her face. “And worst enemies, too.” She held up her wrist, and Irina sucked in her breath; she had never seen it before, but there it was. Her name in Russian, in her own handwriting.

Honestly? It was a little surreal.

“Well, _that_ part’s definitely true.”

Sharon laughed. It was an actual laugh, one that made Irina’s heart warm. “You can say that again.”

A single cloud came into view. Irina gazed at it, watched it chug along in front of a dazzling rainbow, and grinned.

“Hey.” She pulled out her comm device. “I got a mission to do today. Taking out a few indigens, maybe a tyrant or two. It pays pretty well.” She smiled. “You wanna join?”

Sharon snorted. “I’ve been on worst first dates.”

“What, is that a yes?”

“Only because of the money.” Sharon stood up and shoved her chair into the table. A waiter hurried over to them, a receipt fluttering in his gangly hands. She whispered something that made him go redder than the lava in Cauldros, and he was all too happy to accept the ten thousand credit note that Sharon stuffed into his pocket. Once he left with a skip in his step, Sharon grinned. She stood next to Irina and offered a hand. “Shall we, dear?”

Irina grasped it and pulled herself up. “Of course. Let’s go and kick some indigen ass.”

The sun was shining as they set off. Irina glanced to the woman at her side, and couldn’t help but smile.


End file.
